A Day Out
by Whymsical
Summary: FrUK Oneshot. France decides to take an overworked England out to relax and have fun. Very little minor cursing, so rated T for safe. Some very soft yaoi at the end. (Story better than summary XD)


**A/N:** My second completed Hetalia fanfic. Although I prefer USUK, I'm not totally opposed to FrUK- hence this. This was a birthday present for one of my good friends, but I hope you all enjoy it!

England sat alone at his table in his study, piles of paperwork surrounding him on all sides. It was barely 7:30 in the morning, and yet the green-eyed nation was already hard at work, and had been for the past hour or so. And there was still so much to do. Judging from the stacks, he would be sitting at the desk all day and well into the night.

He thought he heard the front door open and then close softly, but he dismissed it as a trick of his mind and took another sip of tea. The door to his study was open, however, so he didn't hear the soft steps of the other person in the room until said person placed a hand on his shoulder and laid a single rose on top of the form he was currently filling out. England went stiff as the person leaned close to him.

"Bonjour, Angleterre." a smooth, accented voice whispered into his ear.

England shot up immediately, spinning around to face the other country. "France, you bloody frog, what the hell are you doing here?!" he snapped, rubbing at his ear as if to get the feeling of France's breath off it.

France spread his arms wide, smiling innocently. "I just wanted to drop by to see how you were doing."

England scowled. "You don't 'drop by' anywhere unless you want to rape or molest someone, you pervert. Get out of my house."

"Oh, I will, mon ami, but you will be coming with me." France's smile turned into a smirk.

"W-What?! I won't be going anywhere with you!" England snapped, backing away from him until he hit the desk and couldn't go any farther.

"Angleterre, you've been cooped up inside this stuffy house for days. You haven't gone out anywhere in ages. That's not good for you. You need to relax every once in a while."

"And I suppose the relaxing you'd like most would be if I was in bed with you?"

"Well, that would most certainly be pleasant, chér…"

"Forget it! I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Oh, Angleterre, you wound me so." France cried dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. England watched him, unimpressed. "I was merely thinking a day out around town. Lunch at a café, and perhaps a visit to one of those museums you so dearly like?"

England hesitated for a moment. He really hadn't gone out, or relaxed, in so long…He suddenly shook his head violently. "No, I won't go with you!"

In an instant, France sidled up to him and looped an arm around his waist, pulling the smaller nation close to him. "Mon ami, you don't really have a choice in this matter. You are going out whether you like it or not." And with that, he proceeded to drag a cursing England out of the study and out the door.

They were down the block when England finally managed to get out of France's grasp.

"Nice try, frog. Commendable effort, really, but I'm not going anywhere, especially with you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork to finish." England said, turning on his heel and walking back to his house.

"Oh, no you don't." France muttered, running after him. He caught the others arm and forced him to stop. "You can do the paperwork some other day. Today, we have fun."

"Fun?" England asked scathingly. "I know how to have fun. Without you or your so-called 'help'."

France sighed. "Angleterre, that is your problem. You do everything by yourself and refuse to open up to others."

"So? There's nothing wrong with enjoying one's own company." England said, wrenching his arm free. The Frenchman was right, he was always spending time by himself, filling out forms or simply sitting down and enjoying a nice cup or tea and stitching. America tried visiting sometimes, but those visits ended with large fights and left him in a worse mood than he had started off in.

"You have to open up sometimes." France took his arm again and turned him around. Upon seeing the other nation's face, he smirked. "You know, if you scowl all the time, one day your face will stay like that forever."

England's frown deepened, if that was possible. "Don't you worry about my face." He tried getting his arm free again, but the Frenchman's grip was stronger this time. A day out was looking increasingly nice as well, despite the company it would be spent in.

France sensed that England's resolve was weakening. "Come on, chér, what harm could one day off do?"

"With you? World War III could possibly break out."

"Tch, again with the wounding?"

England hesitated even more. "You won't try anything?"

"Non, not unless you want it. Which you will, at the end of the day." France said, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

"Of course I won't want it!" England snapped.

"So you will come?"

"If only to prove you wrong!"

France smiled, savoring his victory. He turned England around so he was facing the opposite direction of his house, and they set off. They walked to the town center first where France immediately led him to a clothes shop, insisting that England needed better-suited clothes for a day out than the ones he was wearing.

"For the last time, my clothes before were perfectly fine!" England said, pulling at the jacket he was now in. Underneath it was a simple t-shirt. He was also now wearing dark jeans. They weren't uncomfortable, but he wasn't used to them.

"Stop complaining, you look good." France told him, running his eyes up and down his body.

England crossed his arms as he felt the other's gaze. "Stop staring at me, pervert."

France rolled his eyes and pointed to a café across the street. "I assume you haven't eaten anything this morning?" England didn't reply, but he looked down. France sighed. "You will starve away one day, mon ami. You will eat there."

"What about you?"

"Your concern is touching, but I already ate."

"I'm not concerned! It's just bad manners for one person to eat while the other simply watches them."

"I won't be too offended, don't you worry." France said, smirking. He led England over to one of the tables and pulled the chair out for him.

England sat down slowly, watching the Frenchman suspiciously. However, France merely pushed the chair in so it was against the table and sat down himself.

"This is a lovely French café. I come here quite often, whenever I visit you." France commented offhandedly as they waited for the waiter or waitress to appear.

"A French café in England?" England raised an eyebrow.

"Miracles can happen. Ahh, here comes our waitress."

"Hello, I'll be serving you today. Can I get you some drinks to start off?" the waitress, a pretty young woman said cheerfully. She looked to France first.

"I'll have black coffee with Kahlua coffee liqueur and Cointreau orange liqueur." France said easily, then looked to England.

"Tea. English tea, mind you, not that horrible French stuff." England said shortly.

The waitress nodded and handed them each a menu, then left. As soon as she was gone, England raised an eyebrow again.

"Liqueur so early in the morning, France?"

"I can hold it, unlike some." France replied, smirking.

England's cheeks heated up. "I can hold my alcohol!"

"Of course you can, Angleterre." France said offhandedly and looked over the menu. "What would you like to eat? The croissants here are very good."

England glanced down the menu, and fining nothing else particularly to his taste, closed it. "I'll have that then." he muttered.

When the waitress came back, France ordered two orders of croissants, which were quickly brought out to them. He watched distastefully as England spread some butter over his.

"So very un-French…" he said, spreading some strawberry jam over his own.

"Well, luckily I'm not French, so keep your unnecessary comments to yourself. Bread and butter are delicious." England snapped back, taking a bite.

He didn't realize quite how hungry he was until he swallowed, and the rest of the food on his plate quickly followed. He looked longingly at the croissant still on France's plate for a moment until he caught himself and shook his head, taking a sip of his tea.

France watching him silently before sliding the croissant to him. "You are still hungry, non?"

England looked away. "I'm not, and I refuse to take food from you."

"You are lying. Do not argue, Angleterre, and just eat it. I am giving it to you. You can even eat it with that distasteful butter if you must."

"…Just this once." England said as he took the croissant and quickly ate it.

France finished his own off and smiled. "Good. Now we will go to the museum. There is a new art exhibit." He paid for the food, despite England's protests, and they set off.

They walked through the museum for a few hours, looking at the art. Periodically, France would try to make a small move on England. A lingering touch here, holding hands there. But England, whether consciously or not, thwarted his efforts every time with a step towards a piece of art or a movement of his own. They came to a small room off the main path, filled with music records and a gramophone.

France's eyes lit up when he saw this and he dragged England inside, shutting the door behind them. He quickly searched through the records until he found the one he was looking for. He held it out triumphantly to England, who was standing in the middle of the floor and watching him.

"What is that?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"'Wicked Game' by Chris Isaak." France went over to the gramophone and put the record on. He stepped to England as the first notes began to play. "We will dance to it." he said, gently taking him up in the beginning stance.

"Wh-What?! No, let me go!" England protested, trying to move away.

France held him fast. "Enjoy it, Angleterre…" he said, leaning close to him to sing into his ear along with the lyrics.

_"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you._

_It's strange what desire will make foolish people do._

_I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you._

_And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you."_

They moved across the floor, slowly turning. France smiled as he felt England relaxing.

_"No, I don't want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_No, I don't want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_With you (This world is only gonna break your heart)"_

England at that point decided he'd had enough with the dance and tried to pull away, but France tightened his grip on the smaller nation and refused to let go.

_"What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way._

_What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you._

_What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way._

_What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you and,_

_I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_No, I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_With you."_

France spun England around slowly, allowing him to get an arms' length away before pulling him back. They both moved with the fluidity of centuries of practice.

_"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you._

_It's strange what desire will make foolish people do._

_I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you._

_And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you,_

_No, I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_No, I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_With you (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_No, I... (This world is only gonna break your heart)_

_(This world is only gonna break your heart)"_

France was quite surprised he was still leading at this point. He assumed it was because England had completely shut down for the duration of the dance. For the final line, he leaned down and whispered it into England's ear.

_"Nobody loves no one."_

He moved his head to the side and leaned in even more to kiss England full on the lips.

The moment the music stopped, England twisted out of France's grip, apparently not noticing that the other's lips were centimeters away from his own. He quickly walked over to the gramophone and took the record out, placing it back into its protective sleeve and putting it with the others, leaving France alone in the middle of the floor.

"Well, that was a nice experience, but let's leave now in case anyone else wants to use the room." he said brightly.

It took France a moment to realize he wasn't going to kiss England, and when he did, he groaned quietly. Nevertheless, he nodded and opened the door. England stepped out into the hallway and made his way out to the front doors, not bothering to wait. Just before they exited, France pulled him suddenly into the gift shop.

"What are you doing?" England hissed, moving away.

"I would like to buy something here, if they have it." France replied, heading to the music section.

"You want to buy the record we…listened to?"

France smirked. "We didn't just listen to it, chér. Do not be ashamed to say we danced."

"Like I would ever freely admit to doing anything with you, frog." England scoffed, taking a look at some other records.

"Tch, that will have to change…" France muttered to himself as he searched the records. When he found the right one, he smiled and bought it, then headed out of the museum with England in tow.

When they were a few blocks away, he turned and pressed the bag into England's arms. "For you."

England stared down uncomprehendingly at it for a few seconds before ripping his gaze away and turning it to France. "What- why…?"

"I just remembered, I do not have a gramophone. You do, however, and so that would not be wasted." France replied, smiling down at him.

England frowned, pretty sure he had seen a gramophone lying around the last time he had gone to France's house. "But don't you-"

"Shhh. Accept the gift." France said, pressing his index finger lightly over England's mouth to shut him up.

England backed away from him, but clutched the bag tighter to him. He took a deep breath. "Right. I went out with you, so now can I go home?" he asked, his expression a cool and collected mask of impatience.

"Back to that stuffy old house, where you will be alone? I think not." France glanced at his watch. "Besides, it is only 4:00. We still have plenty of time until the day is done."

"But it's almost done, and I like being alone! I don't have to deal with any stupidity or perverseness." England snapped, groaning. "Besides, I missed my afternoon tea."

France raised an eyebrow. "Your tea habits may be more of a problem than your drinking is…"

"I do not have an obsession with tea!" England shot back immediately. "And I don't have a drinking problem!"

"You know, I would like to see who has more alcohol in their house at one time, you or Russia."

"Of course I- Russia does!" England said, then pressed an arm over his stomach as it growled.

France saw the gesture. "You have not eaten since breakfast. We will go to a café or teahouse. You can have your precious tea there, as well as something to eat."

"Then I go home?"

France sighed. "Very well. After that I can walk you home. Don't protest now, you won't change my mind, Angleterre."

He took England's hand and they walked off to the nearest teahouse. England immediately slipped his hand out of France's but walked next to him. At the door to the teahouse, when England wasn't looking, France slipped a few pounds to the head waiter and whispered something into his ear.

They were given a table with a lovely view into the teahouse's garden. Service was extremely slow, something which England frequently complained about, but France smiled to himself. He would put up with the complaints if it meant stalling longer. He soothed England down and they filled the air between them with small talk as their drinks came, and then their food. By the time they were done, the sun was setting and it was growing dark. As they were leaving, England saw France nod to the head waiter, who smiled and winked back at him.

"You wouldn't have had anything to do with the slow service, would you?" he muttered as they walked.

France had the grace to look horrified. "Me? Non, of course not!"

"Mhm, sure you didn't." England replied disbelievingly.

They were silent after that until they reached England's house. France insisted on walking him right up to the door.

"I hope you were able to relax at least a little today, chér." he said.

England pursed his lips. "I suppose it wasn't the _worst_ of days…" he said eventually. He opened the door.

"And are you sure you want to be alone tonight?" France asked quietly, looking intently at England's back.

"Yes, I'm sure." England replied immediately, but his thoughts were racing. It was lonely in his house by himself, and he often wished for company, even his brothers, but he could never bring himself to ask anyone. And his day with France really hadn't been that bad. France hadn't been too perverted, and apart from trying to kiss him (yeah, he saw that move), he hadn't really tried anything.

"If that is what you wish. Bonne nuit, Angleterre." France said, turning away and starting down the path.

"...Wait."

He turned to find England hadn't moved and was standing at the door, his head low. "Oui?"

"Will…will you stay?" England asked quietly, not looking up.

France smiled and walked back to the house, laying a hand on England's shoulder. "Oui, I will stay."

England nodded and went inside, closing the door after France entered. He locked it and turned to the other nation, stifling a yawn as he turned the lights on.

France looked around quickly and then took the bag with the record inside from England, placing it on a nearby table. "You are tired. I know it is early, but go to sleep now."

"But the paperwork…And you're my guest, I can't just leave you and go to sleep, as much as I would want to." England protested.

"The paperwork can wait until another time." France replied as he steered England up the stairs to his bedroom. He turned around to face the bookshelf to give the other some privacy as he changed. When he turned back, a book in his hand, England was standing by the bed.

"I really shouldn't be going to sleep yet…" England said.

"Sleep is more important than paperwork." France stepped over to him and gently pushed him back onto the bed, then pulled the covers up to his chin. England watched him suspiciously the whole time, but France merely smiled and then settled down onto an armchair, opening the book. "Sleep, England."

England slowly relaxed his muscles and closed his eyes, breathing evenly. After a few minutes, when France was sure he was asleep, he placed the book down and lay down on the bed next to him, careful not the move the mattress too much. He leaned over, propping himself up on his arms, and lightly kissed England on the forehead.

"Bonne nuit, Angleterre…" he whispered.

Immediately, he felt a hand at his throat, pushing him up. He jerked back and looked down to find himself staring into England's eyes, which were now open and wide awake. There was annoyance in them, along with a hint of amusement.

"What are you doing, frog?" England asked, tightening his fingers slightly around France's neck.

"I-I'm not doing anything, Angleterre." France replied in a slightly strangled voice, cursing his luck the whole time. "But you are slowly crushing my windpipe, mon ami."

England's eyes dimmed and he removed his hand. "It felt…nice." he confessed in a quiet voice.

France slowly moved his whole body closer to him, and wrapped his arms around the Brit's thin shoulders, pulling England closer to himself. He expected resistance, and was pleased when none came. "And this?"

England buried his face in France's shirt to hide his blush. His mind screamed at him to get away from the pervert, but he found himself enjoying the sensation to much to do anything. "N-Nice as well…" he muttered.

France smiled. His luck suddenly didn't seem so bad. He didn't do anything else, simply holding England close as he drifted off to sleep. All in all, not a bad day.

When England was sure France was asleep, he wriggled upward, closer to his face. Checking to make sure the other hadn't stirred, he hesitated for a moment before lightly planting a kiss on his lips. The smile on France's face seemed to grow bigger, but he didn't stir. England immediately burrowed back down and resumed his previous position.

"Good night, frog…And thank you."

**A/N:** What do you all think? Review if you want~! And if you find any mistakes/errors, don't hesitate to point them out.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

'Wicked Game' belongs to Chris Isaak


End file.
